Shattered Cups, Broken Spirits
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: She didn't know whether the similarities between her and Mary were either a curse or blessing.


The expensive cup shattered in pieces, awaking everyone from the not so lively though amiable conversation. Violet's first reaction was reaching across to hold Mary's hand, after having set her own cup down on the table beside her. The gasp before the thin cup had slipped from feminine fingers had reached her ears, but not Cora's. She looked incredibly pale – paler than her usual milky white countenance. Alarm was written in hazel eyes, which worried her immensely. _"I suddenly felt terribly cold."_

"Are you all right?" Cora wondered, but it barely reached either Mary or Violet's ears.

Mary's shorter but poignant description had cast her back to the day Patrick, Violet's late husband, had died. She remembered feeling terribly cold then, as if her very own blood had stilled in her veins and iced over suddenly; as if the muscles in her entire being had locked up and caged her then within her own body. The strange force had released her as soon nearly as it had come; it had lasted less than a minute, no longer than a few seconds… but it was a weird sensation she never would forget in her entire life. It had made perfect sense later, when she had arrived home again, finding her husband on the floor in the small library, eyes gazing at the ceiling unseeingly, the color and warm having already left his body. The book he must have been reading had lain a few inches further, the glass of wine he must have been holding shattered at his side, the red liquid soaked deep into the very expensive carpet. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the small shatters of glass shimmering in the light that streamed in from the windows, and she caught herself gazing at the remains of Mary's cup, entranced.

"No, Mama, I'll be fine…"

She wondered how much of the interaction between mother and daughter she had missed. As she refocused on Mary, she noticed she had gotten to her feet, her hand, however, still in hers tightly. Mary's hazel eyes trailed to Violet then, shock still very visible within. She gently squeezed the Dowager Countess' hand before letting go, moving to leave the room. Violet stood, too. "I'll return here before going," she told Cora, giving her a piercing glare and going after Mary. She couldn't say whether it was a blessing or a curse that Mary was a lot like her in many ways.

Of course, Mary with her much younger legs, was much faster than she ever could have been with her old ones and cane. A sigh, combined with a groan, left her lips at the thought of having to do the long flight of stairs in order to get to Mary's bedroom. She would do them nevertheless… "No, I'll be fine," she warned, waving with her hand at Anna as she rushed to her side and opened her mouth to say something.

She didn't knock or wait in any way before opening the door to Mary's bedroom and entering once Violet had reached that far, much slower than she would have liked to.

"Granny!" Mary exclaimed upon the sound of the door and seeing her rather unexpected visitor. She stood at once, hurrying to Violet's side and helping her to sit down on the edge of the bed, appalled that her always spiky Granny had just done all those stairs to come after her. "You shouldn't have come after me. I'm okay," she said, taking a seat at her left.

Violet looked at Robert's first born, icy blue fastening on her. She would have looked murderous, hadn't she been panting heavily. She looked… genuinely insulted. She managed to get her breathing back in control a few seconds later – enough to speak again. "Maybe you can fool your American mother, but you certainly cannot fool me, Mary," she said. Mary's mouth opened at once to reply, before she realized she had no idea what to say at all. Violet quirked an eyebrow at the younger woman. "Do you still love him?" she asked, her eyes suddenly taking on softer blue tones.

Mary just looked at her Granny shocked, unsure what to reply, but something in those unusually soft blue eyes, in the five gently spoken words, got straight to her heart. No, she couldn't fool her Granny. She couldn't act as if she didn't know who she meant, but she couldn't get the truth from her lips. Matthew was engaged to be married to Lavinia Swire, she to Sir Richard… Her eyes filled with tears, the realization hitting her more than ever. He had rejected her after all. He hadn't wanted her any longer… She lifted a hand over her mouth once the avalanche of emotions came hurling down right in her system. Her reaction was enough for Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham.

"Oh dear…" Violet whispered, taking a hold of the younger woman's hand. She fell into her arms and immediately began to weep, and Violet's only thought was to hold her like she hadn't done in many years; since the younger woman was just a small child. Then again, it had been nearly as long since she had seen her cry, too. "I'm here," she whispered, not sure where that suddenly came from now. It came… _natural_, though.

Despite the regal features, Violet was really most sensitive of the Crawley family of Downton Abbey. No one ever would guess, but it was true nonetheless. She could feel the emotional pain of other better than anyone would give the old Lady Grantham credit for, and if necessary she would do all to change fate for her family and those who deserved better. She saw those people. She saw the pain of a father, over his only son dying in a foreign bed; of a woman who had loved and lost.

"Shh," Violet gently whispered. In Mary, she saw how misguiding a careless exterior and attitude could be.


End file.
